Honey Hibiscus and Cherry Blossom Fusion
by RingoGirl
Summary: Jackson's company wanted Lisa. What luck. Jackson knew this job was just the beginning of his career revival and revenge. Lisa ruined the Keefe job, and Jackson would make her pay with this one. He was going to make Lisa pay for seducing him. Eventual JxL
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own any Red Eye characters. However I do own my OC, Logan Tivey. Enjoy yall!**

_Honey Hibiscus and Cherry Blossom Fusion._ Jackson Rippner read from the amber-colored perfume bottle poised perfectly above Lisa Reisert's bathroom sink. Such delicate scents suited his delicate Lisa. He smiled lightly as he enclosed the bottle tightly within his grasping fingers. His cerulean eyes lingered on the crumbling label as he brought it close to his face and inhaled deeply. Her familiar scent danced through his nostrils, eliciting memories of their fateful flight together. The airport bar, seats 14E and 14F, together. The airplane bathroom, Jackson often thought fondly of that ordeal. He remembered holding her close, feeling her fear, her tingling flesh, his powerful hands wrapped firmly around her porcelain neck. Her beautiful neck. He never meant to hurt her. He would never intentionally place a crack in such fine china. But he had a job to do. And her overpowering scent of honey hibiscus and cherry blossoms could not keep him from doing it. He was, after all, a professional. A professional with a reputation to regain.

Jackson abruptly tore the bottle from his face. That damn scent. _Her_ damn scent. It had taken him months to repair his shattered image, and Jackson figured he had years ahead of him until his reputation was fully repaired. That is, if it ever would be fully repaired. Image and reputation were the cornerstones of success in Jackson's business. Weaknesses were not. Weaknesses were to be stamped out, and pounced upon; not inhaled and enjoyed. Jackson slammed the perfume bottle hard onto the sterile white counter and stared quizzically at his reflection in her mirror. Was Lisa his weakness? No, he thought firmly. No. She _was_ his weakness. Was. Past tense. And it wasn't just her that contributed to his failure that night. There were a myriad of outside forces at work. It was late, a red eye flight for goodness sake, and Jackson had not slept a wink. The nights before jobs were always hell. Especially this one. Charles Keefe had a particularly sneaky security detail, and Jackson's informant was almost caught at the last moment. So Jackson had a few drinks at the airport to ease the stress. With Lisa.

With _Lisa_. Was that his choice? No, he only extended an invitation, _Lisa_ accepted the offer. She didn't have to accept it, he was only being friendly, establishing contact. Contact was a central part of the job after all. Imagine how the two of them would have made it through takeoff if he hadn't established contact? She would have caused a horrific scene and chances are she would have been far less compliant. And there wouldn't have been witnesses, seeing the two of them sitting happily together before takeoff. It would have been a complete mess.

So Jackson made contact, in line, by standing up to that jackass customer. It was a classic maneuver. By standing up to the customer, Jackson not only took up Lisa's cause, but showed he related with her line of work, showed he knew how to deal with unruly customers, just like her. Just like her. He knew all about her line of work, and wanted to show he understood, and was capable of nipping an annoying customer in the bud. Just like her.

And it worked. Swimmingly, in fact. Although she was hesitant at first. Not like the other air-headed bimbos he so often was assigned. The others were always so desperate for a decent man, they dug their claws straight into him halfway through his first advance. Typical, easy, always. Never challenging, always easily subdued, and the crying, oh god, the crying. Jackson cringed as he thought of the many lapels and silk ties those bimbos had almost ruined with tear-stains and slobber. And he would have to talk them down, like a high school guidance counselor consoling a junior varsity athlete who unsurprisingly didn't win a football scholarship. Cajole them in a light, commanding tone. Pick up the phone, open the laptop, or what have you, and do what he, and his company, wanted done. And then he'd leave them, horrified and shuddering, to contemplate their actions and vaguely spew their recollections of the strange, blue-eyed devil who forced them to break the law. They would spew this mess to friends, family members, and sometimes even the police. Jackson's technique and routine were always the same.

But Lisa was different. Lisa was hesitant. Lisa didn't fall head over heels for his gentle yet manly maneuvers. She remained suspicious and aloof. Just like him. Just like Jackson. And that intrigued him, s_he_ intrigued him. But that wasn't why he invited her to drinks. He knew she would prove more of a challenge, her trust would be harder to gain. And his surveillance not like other muscle-headed jerk offs, and could handle rejection. Jackson had noticed Lisa was always aloof around men, and figured this would be a quality she admired. And she rejected his invitation in the end. Jackson didn't expect her to be sitting beside him 10 minutes later. That was _her_ choice. _She_ seduced him!

Jackson angrily swatted the perfume bottle off of the counter. The glass bottle shattered and skidded across the tile floor, and its amber contents pooled at Jackson's feet. He cursed as he now found himself enveloped in her scent, and stomped toward the bath mat to try to wipe the mess from his new leather loafers. A squeak from outside the bathroom interrupted his efforts, and Jackson was thankful for the excuse to escape the room that was now filled with Lisa's intoxicating aroma.

Jackson exited the bathroom and closed the door tightly behind him to entrap her scent. He smiled thankfully as he stepped into the living room of Lisa's apartment, where the red-headed reminder of his new job and potential image maker sat bound in an easy-chair. Cynthia. Lisa's poor co-worker and friend looked disheveled and terrified. Her brown eyes were wider than usual, and were glued unsteadily to Jackson's approaching form. She was shivering, and a thin line of fresh blood was running down her cheek.

Seeing Cynthia there, tied up, helpless, bleeding. Jackson couldn't help but smirk as he glided toward her. He would have preferred Lisa to be sitting in her place but that time would come soon enough. After all, Jackson knew the job was just beginning. And this time, he was not going to allow runaway thoughts about Lisa Reisert to ruin it. Lisa ruined the Keefe job, and he was going to make her pay with this one. He was going to make that bitch pay for seducing him.

Jackson snapped himself free from his thoughts and turned his focus to the red-headed heap before him. For now, she would have to do.

"Cynthia," He greeted her aloud, placing a syrupy inflection on the latter syllables. "How _are_ we doing tonight, dear Cynthia?"

He relished the shiver that passed through her as he slid his index finger through the trail of blood creeping down her face. Jackson scoured the room for a paper towel while the redhead fumbled with her words. Finding none, he wiped his finger clean on the front of Cynthia's torn blouse.

"I…I mean….this…person…"Cynthia mumbled meekly, pausing several times to bite her lip and think.

Jackson smirked as he watched her face tighten in confusion. He could already tell what was wrong her. He, like other operatives in his line of work, were trained in this particular technique of mind manipulative interrogation. But no one was as highly skilled in it, as his business associate and partner, Logan Tivey. Jackson should have known Logan would seize the opportunity to play with such easy prey. She did not do well in idle situations.

"Admit it's what you like about me."

_Reading my mind as always. _Jackson glanced past Cynthia's shivering form to see Logan Tivey leaning against the door-frame to the kitchen. Although not more than 5"4, Logan had a cocky and powerful presence, accentuated by a sinewy, curved figure and her dark, lipstick smeared smirk. Her olive green eyes were narrowed playfully and traced with minimal make-up giving her a natural, tender glow. Her flawless pale skin resembled the flesh of a Georgia peach and needed no rouge, although despite Jackson's objections, she did sometimes apply touches here and there. Tonight she had obliged him, thankfully, and he thought she looked stunning, even in the soft dim light of Lisa's apartment. She was always stunning. _Lisa was always stunning_.

Logan clutched a ragged roll of Bounty towels in one hand, a miniature kitchen knife caught lazily between the French-tipped fingers of her other. She mashed the roll against her chest and quickly tore off a sheet before tossing it aside with a dramatic pause, as though it had suddenly transformed into something disgusting. She never took her eyes off Jackson throughout the ordeal, keeping them glued upon him as she gingerly wiped the remnants of Cynthia's blood from the blade.

"I didn't want to dirty your _beloved's_ dishware,"

She explained sarcastically. Her voice was enticing, youthful and trusting yet always permeated by an underlying lusty chill. Jackson straightened up as she ambled toward him. He watched as she turned the knife through her fingers like a bored student would a pencil. She paused before his muscular form and studied his face momentarily. Red lips pursed, she traced his cheekbone with her spare ring finger. Her touch could be so delicate when she wanted it to be.

"Maybe you can soak this in the perfume you found in her bathroom. You know, a keep-sake to add to your collection?"

A thin smile crept across her lips as Jackson's face tensed. Logan knew she had struck a nerve. His defenses were low, and she snatched the opportunity to lean in close. Their noses almost touched, and they could feel one another's breath on their faces. Her hand snaked toward his face.

"Did you ever have a collection for me, Jack?" She asked it so gingerly, so knowingly.

Jackson's jaw tightened. He wrapped a hand around her advancing wrist and squeezed it tightly as he pushed it away. His grip was crushing, but Logan never winced. Jackson had taught her never to wince. He had taught her so much.

"You're supposed to be on perimeter," Jackson growled, his voice low and commanding.

Logan smirked at his fury. "And miss out on the chance to see your crush's apartment? Don't be silly, Jack." She ripped her wrist easily from his grip and Jackson momentarily cursed himself for teaching her that maneuver. "Besides, if I were sitting in my little prowler outside, Cynthia and I would have never become such close pals. Isn't that right, Cyn?" She bared her bleached teeth and flashed the quaking redhead a carefree grin that went unreturned. "She's a little shy." Logan explained. But when you _cut to her core_, she's really quite talkative."

Jackson rolled his eyes at Logan's dark humor. "Talkative about anything worthwhile?"

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" Logan teased. She pressed the knife against his chest and watched as he took it in his powerful hands. "You can pretend she's Lisa," She whispered sarcastically.

Jackson returned her comment with an icy smile and bored tone. "Get back on perimeter, Logan."

"With pleasure, Jack. Someone's got to make sure you don't botch_ this _job too." She shot him a parting smirk and turned toward the door. She patted Cynthia lightly on the shoulder as she passed, chuckling heartily as the redhead shrank back from her touch. "Relax Cyn, you've already given me what I wanted. Albeit, rather..." She had difficulty spitting out the last word, and instead chewed on it thoughtfully. The mischievous glint disappeared momentarily from her eyes, replaced by despondency as she hissed. "Easily."

Jackson could tell Logan's mind was racing. It always raced during disappointments on the job. Targets like Cynthia were like candy to Logan. They were fun, a quick burst of energy, but never enough to fully sustain her. Logan needed more. Jackson had trained her to need much more.

"Leesey's due home around 9." Logan had snapped herself out of her momentary depression. "Cyn here was sweet enough to text her. She's renting a movie, so give or take a few minutes. You know firsthand how darn indecisive Reisert can be." Her tone was relentless and mocking and she grinned as Jackson's hand moved instinctively toward his collar, where the scar Lisa gave him lurked beneath the silk fabric. "See you in a few, Jack." Jackson watched as Logan snaked her fingers around the doorknob. "Unless little Lisa's packing pens in her purse."

Jackson didn't respond, and instead merely stared after Logan as she left the apartment. He was in no mood to deal with her, and was grateful to have her gone for now. He set the knife down on the glass coffee table that acted as a partition between him and Cynthia. The redhead's eyes were downcast, and her pale face was alight with shame. Jackson almost felt bad for the girl as he watched her. She seemed so hollow, so clueless, like so many of the girls he usually dealt with. _Not like Lisa. So few women were like Lisa._

Jackson sighed. He supposed he should try to comfort her, like he did with most targets. He just hoped she wouldn't cry. He was wearing one of his favorite jackets, and lamented the idea of having to scrub another mess of tear-stains and saliva from his sleeves. Jackson inhaled deeply. He might as well stick to his routine. "This was beyond your control, Cynthia." Jackson couldn't count the number of times he had spoken those words throughout his career. He had it down to perfect auditory science. His words were clear, assuring, concise. But the redhead did not acknowledge them. Instead she remained frozen, her body crumpled in a heap, doe eyes glued to the floor.

Jackson shrugged. He had tried. There was nothing more he could do for the girl, nor cared to do for the girl. She had served her purpose. Her internal conflicts were of no importance to Jackson. This was business, and he could not allow himself to empathize with every emotional trainwreck his business caused. Still, Cynthia's case bothered him. It was rare for Jackson's targets to be forced to implicate an individual with whom they had a direct relationship. Usually the jobs were emotionally trying for targets merely due to heavy consciouses from the far away disasters they indirectly caused. _Lisa had cried. But it wasn't the same. She was too selfless to roll over and allow the assassination, wallowing in useless self-pity. Selflessness. If she could have just cooperated. If you had just bloody cooperated Leese. _Jackson shook his head free from his battling thoughts. They were not serving him, and therefore he needed to abandon them. Nothing could distract him now. Turning his back to Cynthia, Jackson ambled into the kitchen. He eyed the bottle of wine Cynthia had brought over for the "girl's night" he and Logan had instructed her to stage. Cynthia acted accordingly, and in behavior typical of a hotel worker, Cynthia acted above and beyond. _She had actually brought the wine_. Jackson couldn't help but chuckle, although he was grateful there was alcohol in the apartment for a change. Lisa's home was generally a dry place. He knew she preferred to go out for drinks.

He knew where Lisa kept the bottle openers, and he knew which cabinet she reserved for the wine glasses she unveiled on special occasions. It would have taken a stranger half an hour to procure a glass of wine, but it only took Jackson seconds. He sniffed the glass lightly and couldn't help but frown. Jackson supposed he shouldn't be so critical. After all, could Cynthia really have afforded better than "Chateau bon Marche'" on her salary? But years of black tie company events had spoiled him. This wine smelled weak-bodied, and cheap, but alcohol was alcohol and his encounter with Logan had left him quite thirsty. Sighing, he glanced at the clock, and the fleeting dissappointment over cheap wine dissappeared entirely. The black hour hand was close to the 9, while the minute hand trailed slightly. He read 8:45 from the sunflower emblazoned clockface. _Sunflowers. How...Lisa. _They would be together very soon, and to Jackson, that deserved recongnized celebration.

Jackson raised his glass of blood-red wine and toasted the air. "To joyful reunions, Leese."

----


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note**: Hey guys, thank you all so much for the reviews. Sorry it's been forever since I've updated. Life happened, but I rediscovered this story on my computer and thought it would be fun to continue it. I hope you enjoy it! And I promise to update more regularly this time around :)

**_Chapter_ 2**

_Damn._ Lisa Reisert mentally cursed as she felt that familiar feeling overtake her. That sickening, sinking feeling twisted and turned her stomach. Was it embarrassment, guilt, shame? Lisa had no idea, nor did she attempt to identify its root. That sort of thinking was reserved for therapists, and after the handful of sessions she had been forced to endure at the 'suggestion' of Charles Keefe, Lisa had had her fill. _No more therapy for me.  
_

Lisa knew therapy was beneficial. On some level, it helped to answer her questions, and address the traumatic nightmares that still plagued her. However it also opened her eyes to an unpleasant truth: that the events in the parking lot and aboard that red eye flight had scarred her. Lisa hated to admit it. And while she knew that talking was ultimately helpful, Lisa found herself avoiding sessions. It was a difficult task, to willingly face such issues head on, week after week. Besides, Lisa's work schedule barely afforded her time for therapy. The Lux Atlantic applauded her crisis-intervention skills during the red eye debacle, and had promoted her to manager. The promotion was financially excellent, but it came with new waves of stress and responsibility. The requests and criticisms came fast and furious, and as a senior manager, Lisa was expected to take all of this noise with a smile.

"_You have difficulty expressing your emotions."  
_

The therapist's words rang in her hears and a sarcastic smile suddenly played on her lips. She didn't need therapy to tell her that. Her job ensured she had difficulty expressing her emotions. As a matter of fact, her job encouraged such repression. Smile, be cheerful, and remember the customer is always right. Wasn't this the mantra that her employers encouraged? _People-pleaser 24/7_. Lisa's mind flickered back to her conversataion with Jackson aboard that red eye flight, before he revealed his true colors.

He had seemed so nice. He was the considerate man who stood up to the rude customer she was trying to console. The man who had invited her for drinks and "guessed" her order. She had found his game silly, but a cute effort.

_What a cute stalker. _Lisa sneered. _You know how to pick them, Leese. _She still felt angry at herself for believing his act. She had fallen right in when he humored her with anecdotes and questions. Her heart had fluttered with excitement when he helped her through her flight anxiety. He seemed so caring, so kind, and strong willed. She had felt attracted to him. It was the first time since the parking lot incident that she had felt attracted to a man. And then in an instant he changed. The sweetness, the consideration, all an act to disguise his malevolent intentions. All an act to facilitate using her for his purposes. _Men using me. __I guess I should be used to that by now._

_"You show possible signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Lisa."  
_

Lisa grimaced as her therapist's words echoed in her ears. That label. Right now, she hated labels, hated talking. She hated that red eye flight, and she hated that "parking lot incident". _Incident. _She called it an incident. She could never call it what it was.

Her therapist scolded her for not "accepting" the truth by refusing to adopt the true label for what had happened.

Rape.

Those four little letters created a word she despised.

She reluctantly confided to a few friends, and their reactions ensured she would never dare to speak about it again. Her friends turned into different people. Were they concerned? Afraid? Or did they just not know how to handle it?

Lisa didn't know, and she had convinced herself she didn't care. Deep down though, Lisa still felt hurt by their fickleness. She hated them, and their behavior. How they all treated her so differently. She was no longer included in fun activities, her emotional state deemed far too delicate to partake in such normalcy.

No, she was no longer Lisa Reisert to them. She was the rape victim. That's all her 'friends' saw after the news broke. Behind the barrage of smiles, encouragement, and friendly facades, she knew it. And they knew it.

_Can I really blame them? _

Lisa sighed. She supposed she couldn't blame them for their reactions. They were young, fun, full of life, and Lisa was apparently a black cloud. She couldn't fix that. No matter how hard she tried to blend back in and force a smile, her friends would always see her as a representation of their worst fear.

Their reactions were out of Lisa's control. So she moved on, stopped talking, clammed up, and threw herself headfirst into her work. Her experience with her friends had taught her a valuable lesson at least, one that was very useful in her profession.

_People do not know how to react to bad news_.

_His reaction was so different_. Lisa berated herself for allowing her thoughts to drift to back to Jackson, to that night. But she could never erase his reaction from her mind's eye. No matter how hard she tried to fog those memories of that red eye flight, burying them deep within a pool of guest accommodations and company events, they lingered. He lingered.

He had seen through her façade, her lie. He had seen what shamed her most, but also what shaped her. And he seemed angry. Not at her, or the rape, or the label, but at her decision to hide it. He was angry that she hid her scar, hid herself. He was angry that she allowed someone else to exude that much power over her. It was the first time anyone had held a mirror to her life, and then slammed her into it. _Literally and figuratively._

She could feel white hot pain in her back as she thought back to his abuse with a scowl.

His abuse. The mental and physical waterwheel of hell he had forced her to endure. Breaking her down, while he sat back cool and collected, admonishing her for crying as if it were childlike and inappropriate.

Never mind that he was forcing her to aid in murder. _That bastard_.

He made her angry that night. Anger was an emotion Lisa rarely accessed. She had felt angry after her rape, but had buried it beneath layers of melancholy. But this time something inside of her broke. As Jackson attempted to break her down mentally and physically, smirking at each of her struggles, Lisa's anger consumed her wholly. And although she would never admit it to anyone, Lisa enjoyed stabbing him in the neck. Her only disappointment was that it didn't kill him. That _she_ didn't kill him.

It was a grim truth, and Lisa tried to shake it from her head as she stared at the pedestrian who had triggered her mental avalanche. Her therapist had warned her that post-traumatic stress caused flashbacks like these, which could be triggered by anything related to the trauma. As the pedestrian walked past her headlights, Lisa caught a glimpse of his floppy brown hair. _Of course._ She thought angrily. Apparently anything resembling Jackson was enough to drive her crazy now.

Lisa sighed. She knew frustration did not help matters, but on nights like tonight, when all of her issues seemed to congregate before her wild mind's eye, she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Lisa forced herself to inhale deeply and focused on silencing her self-censure as she pulled into her driveway. She had put herself through enough mental anguish today. Now was her time to relax.

Lisa opened her car door. She let her feet dangle momentarily before hopping onto the ground. Her legs tingled uncomfortably as she crossed over to the passenger's side to remove a bag of groceries.

"Hey Cynthia!" Lisa called out as she fumbled the groceries in her arms with the keys in her hand. She used her hips to shove open the door and stepped into her condo. She stuck the key ring in her mouth and kicked the door shut behind her. Lisa was grateful Cynthia had planned tonight. Lisa knew she had been working too hard, but it was difficult to take a break.

Cynthia, like a good friend, had twisted her arm into taking tonight off. After working late and experiencing another flashback, Lisa was glad she heeded Cynthia's advice. She had shaken away most of her anxiety and was ready to lose herself in a bad movie with a good friend. "Cyn!" Lisa called again and walked into the living room. "Cyn-!" She quickly lowered her voice as her eyes fell upon the redhead.

Cynthia was lying face down on the couch with a throw blanket over her. Her face was obscured by a large pillow but she looked like she was sleeping peacefully, despite Lisa's noise. Lisa smiled softly and felt a pang of regret.

"I guess I made her wait too long." She muttered. She was relieved at least, that she didn't wake her up. Lisa tip-toed past the redhead and made her way into the dark kitchen. She clutched the groceries to her chest and used one hand to fumble across the tiled wall for the light switch. It was built into the wall above her stove, inconveniently far from the doorway.

As Lisa stretched her arm toward the elusive switch, she felt the groceries begin to slip from her grip. She gasped as another set of hands caught the bag before she could react. She slammed her fingers against the switch and her body went rigid as Jackson Rippner's face was suddenly illuminated.

"Need a hand, Leese?"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sort of a short one guys. Sorry for the delay, crazy life stuff that has ultimately turned out pretty good. Here's an update, finally! I hope you guys like it. I will update again soon. **

**Chapter 3**

"Need a hand Leese?"

His voice was smooth and sinister. It splashed over Lisa like cold water, and she closed her blurry eyes as her knees became weak. His soft words and cruel, mocking tone were all too much for her.

_It's a dream, it's a dream._

Lisa tried to convince herself. The blanket of denial was mildly comforting as her skin stung from the heat of his too-close body. The smell of his cologne was overpowering and she felt his warm hands find her wrists. He held her loosely and pushed his chest against the grocery bag so that it remained suspended between their bodies.

The Fresh Air bathroom appeared before her, and the memory of their bodies pressed tightly together hung suspended in her mind's eye.

"Jackson" She breathed suddenly, her voice barely a whisper. It couldn't be him. She didn't want to believe it was true. "What…" Lisa paused as her voice cracked. "What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too, Leese." Jackson bared his teeth in a grin. "And I was worried you wouldn't remember me."

Lisa swallowed hard and tried to control her quivering body. Anger, sadness, shame. Warring emotions swirled through her and she glared into his cerulean eyes.

"It's hard to recognize you without the hole in your neck."

There was a loud crash as Jackson stepped away from her. The grocery bag slipped from Lisa's grip and smashed against the floor. Jackson sidestepped the mess and took advantage of Lisa's surprise. His vision was red with anger as he snatched her nimble wrists into his tight grip.

Her skin was so soft beneath against his rough hands…

Jackson scowled at his wild thoughts. _Damn it Lisa! _He snarled as she tugged and tried to tear away from his grip.

Jackson twisted her wrists painfully toward her body and used her momentum to press her against the floor. Lisa gasped as her head and back collided with the cold tiles. She could feel white hot pain course through her head. The room seemed to pulse and pound with every thump of her heartbeat. Her tired, disoriented eyes caught his inquisitive gaze.

Jackson appeared focused as he straddled her kicking body.

"Shh, Leese." He wrestled her wrists against her body, and pinned them down on either side of her head. Jackson leaned in close and smiled as though he had just remembered an important idea.

"Or, honestly, scream all you want." Jackson taunted, taking in her distressed form. "Nobody's around Leese. Cynthia assured me we would have our privacy."

Lisa could feel her vision blur as she struggled to stay present beneath his crushing weight. Memories assaulted her mind's eye as she felt his hot breath on her face.

"What did you do to Cynthia?" Lisa demanded in a hushed voice. She regained control of her quickening breath.

Jackson smirked lightly. "You were just forced to the ground by a man you tried to kill, and you're worried about Cynthia?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, relishing the quiver of her body beneath him. He knew she was afraid. She was trying so hard to appear in control. But Jackson saw through that. He loved that resistance. Lisa's little fighting spirit infuriated him, yet it made her so unpredictable, unlike his usual targets. Her resistance, her strength, her helplessness. His Lisa.

"What did you do to her?" She repeated, her voice louder. "I swear to God if you-"

"Look who's repairing her damaged confidence." Jackson mocked. "Therapy's really working for you."

"Go to hell!" Lisa screamed and pushed futilely against his crushing grip.

Jackson easily overpowered her efforts. "Now, now. How do you think your words make me feel, huh? What would your therapist say about that?"

Lisa kicked violently against him, but could not shake his body from hers. She felt anger pulse through her as she glared up at Jackson's smiling face. He was enjoying overpowering her, and she hated him so much for it.

"But that's right!" Jackson sneered. "You've been a bad patient, avoiding court-ordered therapy."

"How do you know-"Lisa tried to re-gather her voice to speak, but he cut her off.

"The same way I know that in your last session, intimacy issues were taking center stage. I suppose that's when you wanted to cut it off. Something about pushing people away when you're just beginning to get close to them. I think it's tied into a certain incident you mentioned to me on our flight"

"Stop it!" Lisa gasped. She tried to steady her breath as she fought angrily against his grip.

Jackson smirked and dodged her struggles. "It's ok Leese. Lots of women struggle with intimacy and trust issues, especially after trauma. My approach is going to be different than your therapist's…"

Lisa gasped in pain as he gathered her wrists into one hand and pinned them above her head. He moved his other hand to his coat pocket, keeping his eyes trained on Lisa.

"But you'll be better for it, ultimately."

Jackson smiled and produced a small syringe from his coat. He noticed Lisa's eyes go wide as she caught sight of his hands. Her calculated, anxious mind was busy at work. She was thinking, planning, about what, Jackson didn't know. It frustrated him, but it didn't matter anymore. He would have plenty of time to learn what motivated his Lisa.

Lisa gasped as Jackson used his teeth to rip the cap off the syringe. The cap bounced near her ear with a clack.

"What do you want Jackson?" Lisa growled through gritted teeth. Her eyes were glued to the syringe in his hands.

Jackson's voice was emotionless as he prepped the syringe with a light squeeze. "I want you."

Lisa stared at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Jackson seemed to ignore her question as he leaned over her chest to palpate her forearm. Lisa felt tears brim at her eyes as Jackson's fingers settled at the fleshy skin on her inner forearm.

"Please..." She stared into Jackson's unflinching eyes.

Jackson's eyes flickered toward her forearm. "Night Leese."

"No!" Lisa cried as the needle stung her skin.

Lisa felt a panic overtake her as the drug began to overtake her body. _I have to stay awake._ She pleaded with herself, and her body but the effects had begun. Tiny specks of darkness began to blur her vision and she felt her muscles relax against Jackson's firm grip.

Lisa struggled to push against Jackson, but it was no use. The drug was shutting off her thoughts, her reflexes, her consciousness. Lisa could not fight the tug of the effects any longer. Her eyelids drooped as she struggled to keep her eyes open. The last things she saw in the midst of her blotted vision were Jackson's cold blue eyes before her world faded to black.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Just been in a writing mood. Hope yall enjoy! **

His eyes. They were the first things Lisa noticed about him. Jackson Rippner, the gentleman hovering behind her was dressed like a businessman, in his appropriate suit and tie uniform. She would have normally overlooked a man like him. Businessmen were not her type. Yet his warm and powerful cerulean eyes pierced through Lisa like an arrow. She felt uneasy and transparent beneath his gaze, but she could not fight her underlying intrigue. The businessman with a heart, who helped her in the battle of the unruly customer. Clearly, despite his wardrobe, he had experience in customer service. Just like her. Maybe he had humble beginnings. Just like her.

She would find out.

Jackson stuck out a hand. "Jackson Rippner."

Lisa, ignoring the burning in her stomach, took his hand. Her grip was soft against his iron-like palm.

"I'm-"

"Lisa Reisert." Jackson grinned as he finished her introduction. His warm blue eyes became instantly cold and he squeezed her hand cruelly between his fingers.

Lisa gasped in pain as he pulled her close to him. She collapsed into his warm, broad chest and felt fearful yet safe against his body. His grip was crushing as she leaned into him, hoping for comfort.

"Lisa!"

She could hear his voice but his lips were not moving. Lisa closed her eyes tight and buried her head into his chest. She did not want to leave his embrace and face the voice.

"Leese!"

The voice was louder now, as if someone were yelling in her ear. Lisa felt a sharp pain in her cheek and her eyes shot open. She was dreaming. She inhaled sharply as she took in her surroundings. She was in the back of large sedan. Through the tinted windows she could see that the car was barreling down some sort of freeway. In the distance she could see a glimmer of the ocean.

Disoriented, Lisa threw her head away from the window. She glanced beside her and felt a chill of fear as her eyes fell upon her fellow passenger. Beside her, coiled against the car door like a snake ready to pounce, sat Jackson Rippner. He looked satisfied to see her awake, yet she could detect subtle hints of anger in his tightened jaw.

She glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed her cheek glowing bright red. Her eyes flickered back to Jackson, who in her blurred vision appeared to be a double figure.

"Why did you hit me?" Lisa demanded.

"Same reason I bound your legs. It had to be done." Jackson replied curtly. He cocked an eyebrow inquisitively. "Do you always sleep like that? Screaming my name and flailing around?"

Lisa gritted her teeth and tried to charge him but Jackson caught her head and shoved her backwards. Lisa landed face-down against the floor mat. Her legs dangled on the car seat above and she shivered as Jackson grabbed her calves and pulled her toward him.

Jackson caught her nimble arm in his grip and guided her upper body to rest against his. He could feel her sweating profusely, and as he wrapped an arm around her chest, he noticed her breaths were shallow and rushed.

Jackson felt concern overtake him, but he refused to show it. Wordlessly, he laid Lisa across the backseat, resting her head against his lap.

She tried weakly to push him away but Jackson ignored her. He focused the car's air-conditioning vent on Lisa's face and began to speak softly.

"You're fine, Leese. Just breathe."

Lisa's vision felt blurry and she closed her eyes as nausea overtook her. The cold air felt like heaven against her hot skin and she struggled to calm her erratic breathing.

She could feel Jackson's stomach expand and fall with each breath he took and she tried to mimic his breathing pattern.

"Logan!" Jackson barked as he traced the outline of Lisa's clammy face with his forefinger. He watched with fascination as Lisa grimaced lightly. "How far are we? She's having a reaction."

Lisa could hear Jackson's stomach growl as his voice bounced in and out of her ears.

"Is she?" Logan's reply was nonchalant. Her olive eyes briefly flickered into the rearview mirror to confirm Jackson's statement. "She looks terrible."

Jackson frowned. He was in no mood to play these games with Logan. "How far?" He repeated.

"We're close."

"Good."

Jackson returned his attention to Lisa. He watched the rise and fall of her chest for signs of improvement. Her breaths were still rapid, and he lightly stroked her hair in attempt to comfort her.

He felt odd providing comfort to this woman. Lisa Reisert was the bitch who had almost ruined his career. Yet now, here she lie, in his arms, suffering from a suspected drug allergy. And what was he doing? Helping her.

It was against almost every professional instinct he had to help this woman. But Jackson couldn't have her die! Jackson did not want Lisa dead. If anything were to kill Lisa, Jackson would make sure it was him.

That was why he was helping her.

Lisa was his property now. If he wanted her to suffer or die, he would cause it. Not some allergy.

Jackson glanced down at her, feeling mildly convinced of his intentions. He felt a disrupting pang of concern as he cradled her quivering form in his arms.

She felt so small, yet so strong. He could tell she was in pain. The sleeping serum he injected into her was not sitting well with her. It was odd. Jackson thought he would enjoy seeing Lisa in pain. Yet as she grimaced and shivered between his arms, he felt no happiness or amusement. Instead, he felt…concern.

He could see their destination approaching rapidly through the windshield. Jackson felt relieved Logan began to decelerate and the full building came into view.

It was a large facility that stretched into the sky and overlooked the city bay. The sun disappeared quickly as Logan turned into a tunnel entrance. Jackson felt his ears pop slightly as the sedan descended into the depths of the building.

The tunnel coiled around like a twisted cylinder. Logan braked finally and rolled down her window.

"Welcome home." She quipped, punching an access code into a small box.

A metal gate retracted into the ceiling and the sedan pulled into a cavernous garage. Logan pulled into a parking space and pushed a button to kill the engine.

A few yards away from their parking place sat a small operator's booth and break room. The exterior of the room was grey like the garage, but the fluorescently lit interior was clearly visible. 2 men with machine guns stood at either side of a small table, chatting casually.

Their demeanor quickly changed as Logan stalked into the room. Her eyes were fierce and determined as she ordered the 2 men to follow her back to the car.

Jackson gingerly grasped the back door handle and clicked it open. He stepped out of the car gently, making sure Lisa was lied out on her back.

Logan crossed over and hung her arms loosely over the open door beside Jackson. The 2 men from the break room stood awkwardly behind Logan, unsure of what to do.

"What did you give her?" Logan asked.

Jackson shrugged thoughtfully. "Same thing I always give. I guess she's allergic."

"She'll have to learn a lot quicker then." Logan smirked. "Or you'll have to come up with a new way to calm her down quickly."

Jackson briefly locked eyes with Logan. "I think I'll manage."

"You could use my help." Logan countered.

"With?"

Logan smiled pleasantly and fluttered her eyelashes. "Forget it, we'll ask Vasko what he thinks."

She glanced toward Lisa who moaned loudly.

"As for little Lisa," She motioned toward Lisa with a flick of her wrist. "Let's get her to medical. Unless she's seen soon, your reunion may be delayed indefinitely."

Jackson frowned lightly.

Logan detected his discomfort and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"Trust me, I'm a doctor."

Jackson smirked.

"A doctor of psychology."

Logan shrugged. "A title is a title. Now do you want to hand Lisa over to me and medical? So we can get her stabilized and I can determine her mental condition?"

She licked her red lips lightly in anticipation.

"I'm sure Vasko would like to debrief with you."

Jackson nodded and stared down at Lisa. Logan was right. Lisa needed medical attention. He did not trust Logan, but if he refused to let her examine Lisa now, he would only have to give her up later. Maybe Logan's psychological exam would be easier on Lisa if she were only semi-conscious. Maybe Logan would take Lisa's altered condition into account and spare her the worst of it.

"Take her," Jackson relented and stepped away from the door. "Treat her for the reaction, and leave it. At. That." He muttered the last 3 words in a dangerously low voice. "This is her first day."

Logan smiled excitedly. "I'll keep her nice and pretty, Jack. Don't worry."

She motioned for the 2 men to approach Lisa's crumpled form and instructed them on how to lift. Jackson was grateful that Lisa was semi-conscious as the men grabbed onto her body. He was certain that sort of touch would terrify Lisa.

He watched as the 2 men loaded Lisa onto a gurney. Logan casually timed Lisa's vital signs as the men secured her limp body beneath several straps.

Lisa barely protested their movements. Jackson watched as Logan blew him a small kiss as they wheeled Lisa away toward the freight elevator. He shook his head lightly and headed toward the executive elevator at the adjacent end of the garage.

His boss was waiting for him on the top floor.

Jackson hesitated to press the call button, but avoidance was a delicate dance with a low success rate. He knew this. With a sigh, he depressed the button and watched as the light flickered on. The elevator hummed as the car moved down the deep shaft.

There was a jubilant 'ding' as the doors bounced open. Jackson inhaled deeply as he stepped into the car.

The events of the night washed over his dazed form and he felt a tinge of satisfaction. Lisa Reisert was finally in his custody. She was his property now, as she was meant to be.

He smiled. He was finally getting his opportunity to pay her back for the damage she caused to his livelihood.

"Lisa."

Jackson whispered her name softly to himself, relishing the tickle of the letter 's' against his tongue. He would make her his. He would make her strong.

He had to convince his boss that he was capable of molding her accordingly.

The elevator car finally slowed to a stop at the top floor. Jackson adjusted his tie and flattened his hair as the doors opened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, thank you for all of the reviews! I hope you like this chapter, personally, I had fun writing it. Enjoy!**

The penthouse floor where Jackson's boss, Reid Vasko, kept his office, was arguably one of the nicest parts of the company building. As the elevator doors swung open, Jackson was greeted with rays of pale morning sunshine as they gleamed through the panoramic windows that surrounded the large lobby outside of Reid's office. He shielded his eyes momentarily as he stepped out of the elevator cars, and blinked to adjust his eyes to the soft interior light.

The floors were a grey white marble, however, in the center of the room, the floor was covered with a blue-green carpet. There were 4 leather couches positioned in a square around the carpet, and behind them sat a large black desk.

At the desk sat a young woman, with large, dark eyes. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a long ponytail, and she wore heavy make up on her face. She was dressed in a tight-fitting, short black dress, as per Reid's orders. Reid was very particular about how he preferred his women to dress. Jackson supposed it was a trait they shared. Perhaps that was why Reid was so understanding of his desire to steal Lisa.

"Yes?" The girl's voice was thick with a Russian accent. Reid had just shipped her in, although she had been working here a few weeks.

"Hello Kalina." Jackson smiled pleasantly at her. "Jackson Rippner, I'm here to meet with Mr. Vasko."

Kalina nodded and pressed a few buttons on the computer in front of her. There was a soft beep and she smiled back at him. "You may go back now."

Jackson nodded his thanks and stepped toward the deep brown mahogany double doors behind Kalina's desk. A large man in a black suit opened the doors and motioned Jackson forward. Wordlessly, Jackson approached him and lifted both of his arms. He was familiar with the procedure. The large man quickly patted Jackson down before grunting in approval and motioning him inside.

Another young woman with pale skin and light brown hair greeted him as he stepped into the office. She was dressed in a short red dress that left very little to the imagination. Her eyelashes were coated in dark mascara, and they framed her sad green eyes as she curtsied lightly to greet him.

"Hello, Jackson. Mr. Vasko is expecting you."

She spoke in a broken and compliant voice as she tried to avoid Jackson's gaze. Jackson grinned as he eyed her up and down. "Althea," He allowed the name to roll off of his tongue playfully. "You are looking well."

The young brunette caught his cold eyes briefly before looking away as a loud voice acknowledged them.

"Jackson, it is a pleasure to see you."

Jackson allowed his eyes to shift past Althea and settle on his boss, Reid Vasko. He was standing in front of his large black desk, an expectant and pleasant smile on his thin lips. Reid was an attractive yet intimidating young man, who stood at 6"2, and as a former boxer, had a lean and muscular frame. His dark black hair was gelled back lightly and he wore a dark blue suit with a red tie that matched the blood red carpet in front of his desk.

4 leather chairs sat in the same square pattern as the couches in the lobby in front of his desk. They were each a deep brown, that matched the mahogany and glass table that sat at the center of the formation. He beckoned Jackson forward warmly.

"The pleasure is mine, sir." Jackson winked covertly at Althea before walking toward Reid with an outstretched hand.

Reid shook his hand firmly and motioned for him to sit. Jackson obeyed and plopped down in one of the large chairs.

"Althea!" Reid called, his voice affectionate yet firm.

The young brunette stood at attention and sauntered over slowly. Her high heeled shoes clicked against the grey-white marble floor as she stared ahead hollowly. Suddenly, her steps became quiet as her feet found the carpet. She paused to reposition her short dress as Reid watched her approvingly and collapsed in the chair across from Jackson

"Something to drink, Rippner."

Jackson wasn't sure if Reid was issuing an offer or a command so he decided to play it safe. "Coffee please,"

Althea nodded in acknowledgement and looked toward Reid who held up 2 fingers. "2 coffees." He grunted. "And do not forget cream and sugar, Althea my sweet." He eyed her up and down, as if he were scrutinizing her appearance for even the slightest imperfection. "Go on."

Althea cast her eyes to the floor submissively and turned away from the pair on Reid's command. Reid turned his gaze upon Jackson and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "So, package is secure. No complications?"

Jackson nodded, beaming slightly with pride. "Yes, sir. The redhead served her purpose, and Logan flushed her system with enough drugs to discredit any story Cynthia may want to tell. Lisa suffered a small allergic reaction, but she's recovering underground in the Med Bay. If we're fortunate, she should be able to call home in a few hours, and all these loose ends will become a nice, neat knot."

Reid smiled and narrowed his dark eyes slightly. "You seem pleased with yourself."

Jackson shrugged, choosing his words carefully. "Mildly."

Reid chuckled. "You are a funny." The tone of his voice shifted slightly. "You are aware of the time limit on this?"

Jackson nodded. "Of course sir, I'll have her ready."

"There is no room for error on this, Rippner." Reid's voice was serious and his cold grey eyes bore into Jackson's. "Logan will assist you, for now. I do not suppose I need to remind you of what will happen if you fail?"

Before Jackson could reply, there was a loud clank as Althea set a tin tray on the glass and wood table between them. 2 small white cups made of whale bone china sat atop 2 white saucers. In the center of the tray was a tin pot of coffee. Beside it sat a crystal bowl filled with sugar, and a miniature crystal pitcher filled with thick cream.

Jackson watched as Althea poured coffee into each of their cups. She favored her right arm, and her left arm shuddered slightly when she tried to retrieve the sugar bowl for Reid. Jackson suspected she had sustained a permanent injury during one of Logan's interrogations. His mind flickered toward Lisa, and he felt a knot of worry in his stomach.

Lisa was nearly unconscious when they had arrived here. He remembered her deep brown eyes opening and closing spontaneously, her sweaty, yet soft skin beneath his rough hands. Surely Logan would not risk doing anything to Lisa now, when the girl was so obviously ill. No, it wouldn't make sense. They needed Lisa alive, for now. Logan was cruel, and yes, crazy, but she was not foolish. Jackson had trained her to never be foolish. Lisa would learn to never be foolish.

"Thank you, beautiful." Reid smiled and caressed Althea's blushed cheek lightly as she bent to serve him his coffee. She closed her eyes uncomfortably and trembled as his cold fingers probed her soft face. "As I was saying, I do not need to remind you of what happens if you fail, do I?"

Jackson took a sip of coffee and forced a smile. "Of course not, sir." He watched as Reid motioned for Althea to turn around slowly in front of him. As Althea spun around, their eyes met briefly, and Jackson felt his mind slip back to Lisa.

A rare pang of self-doubt tugged at him as he watched Althea spin miserably at Reid's command. What if he failed? No. He couldn't afford to think like that. There was too much on the line. Lisa was his property now. The thought of any other man or woman controlling Lisa made Jackson boil with rage. He would not lose her. She was his, and no one else's.

His eyes flickered back toward Reid, who was waving Althea away with the flick of his wrist. As he caught Jackson's eyes, he smiled and raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. "Good."

Jackson nodded. Yes. Everything was good.

* * *

The ceilings were blurred masses overhead as the pair of men wheeled Lisa through a brightly lit corridor. She could feel the gurney tremble beneath her as the rubber wheels scraped against the cool, white tiled floor. Fluorescent lights tried to sting her eyes as she blinked continuously, trying to clear her vision.

Where was she? Lisa had no idea. The events of the past night were unintelligible in her warped mind. Jackson had come to her, hadn't he? Her mind drifted to the backseat, to lying on his lap. Her bound legs, the tinted windows, her pounding headache. Had she dreamed it all?

Lisa tried to move. She had to get up, she had to get out of here, wherever she was. The gurney straps dug into her legs as she tried to kick them away, and there was a loud rattle and clank as she tried to wiggle out of the chest and arm restraints.

Lisa gasped as a cold hand suddenly pressed down firmly on her chest. She could make out the doubled outline of a feminine figure standing over, mouthing words she could barely hear.

"Hush now."

Logan's voice was warm and soothing in stark contrast to her commanding touch. Lisa could only moan in compliance as Logan retracted her hand and directed the two men to turn. The gurney came to a stop in a small, windowless room that looked like a cross between a prison cell and a hospital room. The walls were ominous gray concrete slabs while the floor was an off-putting yellow-white with a small, steel drain in the center.

Several lonely pieces of medical equipment stood in the corner. The room was obviously designed to keep someone medically stable and emotionally uncomfortable. There were loud clicks as the men locked the gurney wheels into place. Lisa moaned as she felt her body jolt to a stop.

She could hear the click of Logan's high heels against the harsh linoleum floors and the busy hands of Logan's 2 men as they set up the machinery that flanked her bed. A set of cold fingers encircled her wrist and she cried out weakly in pain as an IV needle slid into her vein. Panic started to overtake her as she felt another needle stick into her other arm.

"Don't…." Lisa pleaded softly to whoever would listen.

Logan adjusted the flow rate of the IV bag and glanced toward the man taking her blood sample. "Get that analyzed, immediately." She commanded, ignoring Lisa's pleas. "I also need a copy of her file. Reisert, Lisa."

The man nodded and allowed Lisa's blood to finish draining into the small tube before scurrying out of the room. Logan watched as Lisa groped weakly at her restraints.

"Blood pressure's low." The second man commented. "Pulse is fast. Respirations are quick and shallow at a rate of 27."

Logan stared thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment before snaking her fingers toward the valve on the green oxygen cylinder above Lisa's gurney. There was a loud hiss as she twisted it on and quickly attached a facemask dangling with green tubes to it. She placed 2 fingers against the mouthpiece of the mask to fill the small plastic reservoir bag with oxygen. Gingerly, she placed 2 fingers against the elastic bands of the mask and began to stretch it over Lisa's face.

Lisa could only rock her head in weak protest as Logan secured the mask to her face. "Just breathe now, sweetie." Her voice was soft yet commanding, and Lisa had no choice but to obey.

Lisa felt cold air rush into her lungs and begged her fluttering eyelids to stay open as she watched one of the men push a thick manila folder into Logan's red-nailed fingers. Logan wordlessly opened the file and began to flip through the pages. She looked quietly amused as she skimmed through Lisa's file. Jackson had certainly gathered more than enough information on the girl. The pages in the folder were neat and organized, with color-coded tabs marking different specialists Lisa had visited.

Logan felt a small pang of jealousy as she looked over the thick folder in her hands. Alas, she could not let such feelings interfere with her mission now. Instead, she allowed her intrigue to overtake her as she flipped to the page containing the list of Lisa's past medications.

"We have a winner." Logan said quietly to herself. "Poor, poor baby." She spat out the words slowly and maliciously, patting Lisa lightly on the cheek. "Someone doesn't tolerate Zolpidem well." She paused suddenly and stared closely at Lisa's tired eyes. "You're fighting it aren't you?"

Lisa grimaced as Logan laughed loudly in surprise. "Lisaaa," She drew out the last syllable impatiently and cleared a stray piece of dark hair from Lisa's pale face. "You really must learn to pick your battles. Don't worry, we'll talk about it later, after you've had a chance to sleep off this icky medicine."

"Please…" Lisa begged, but her words were only an exhausted whisper as Logan reached over her to grab a small syringe.

Logan hummed softly to herself as she expelled excess air from the syringe with a light squeeze. Lisa felt a few droplets of the liquid hit her forehead as Logan prepped the needle. "I'll see you soon, Lisa." Logan's voice was cheerful as she attached the syringe to Lisa's IV needle and slowly emptied the vial into Lisa's veins.

Lisa felt her body begin to go rubbery as the solution coursed through her body. She tried to flex her legs, her arms, but they felt weak and relaxed, as if she were floating. The anxiety that had previously kept her body rigid was beginning to dissipate slowly and pool out from her. Her eyelids felt like weights as she struggled to maintain her contact with consciousness. The last thing she saw before her world faded to black bliss was Logan leering over her, her inquisitive lips pulled into a smirk.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hey guys, as usual I own nothing. Would love any feedback yall may have. Enjoy. **

"Lisssaaa…"

He was speaking in his distinctive tone, his voice callous and mocking. She could hear his tongue playing with the sounds of her name, as he gently drew out the "s" and "a" in a singsong manner.

Lisa tried to keep her breath steady as she felt anxiety overtake her. Her body was beginning to tremble and she felt cold sweat begin to pour from her forehead. _Stay calm._ She reminded herself sharply. Lisa was certain she had dreams like this before, where Jackson's voice had swirled around her in a strange echo as they reunited aboard that red eye flight.

It had to be a dream. Whatever she was hearing, or feeling, Lisa knew she must be dreaming. Her therapist had told her to be gentle with herself during these flashbacks. Lisa bit her lip and began to whisper softly to herself.

"It's a dream. I'm ok. This is a dream. This is a dream. I'm ok."

Lisa cried out suddenly as she felt a sharp pain in her upper left arm. As she tried to recoil, she felt resistance against her wrist and chest. Lisa's eyes sprang open and she felt panic begin to overtake her as she tugged against the buckled leather strap that restrained her arm to the rail of her hospital bed.

Lisa gasped in fear as she tried to move her body. With every movement, she met the resistance of tight restraints. She stared around the room wildly as she tried to gain her bearings.

"I'm dreaming…" Lisa said the words slowly, as if her hope would somehow make it true.

"Actually, your theory failed the pinch test, Leese. So I'd say you are very much awake."

That voice. It was the same voice that terrorized her dreams.

Lisa felt her body go rigid as her eyes met the cold blue pools of his eyes_._ Jackson Rippner was sitting beside her bed, his body positioned so that his face was just above hers. Lisa felt her eyes narrow in hatred as she stared at the bastard that had turned her life into a media filled hell for the past year. The man who had threatened to kill her family, her father. The man that may have killed Cynthia.

_Oh God, Cynthia._

The events of the past night began to rush back to her. She remembered coming home to the dark house, Cynthia sleeping in the living room. The kitchen, she had wandered in to set down the groceries, and then….Jackson. Then nothing. Just a blur of various needles and sterile smells, a woman's face staring down at her hatefully.

"How long was I out?" Lisa demanded wildly, pausing to swallow a gulp of air mid-sentence.

Jackson smirked and reached two of his rough fingers forward to caress her soft and pale face. Lisa grimaced and pulled her head away. "Now Leese," He clamped his free hand against her chin to hold her steady and delicately traced her jawbone. "Relax."

"No!" Lisa moaned in protest as Jackson immobilized her last free limb in his hands.

Jackson could not help but smile to himself as he watched Lisa squirm against his grip. His mind drifted back toward that red eye flight, to the bathroom where he first noticed her secret scar. She had tried to bullshit him, as she was wont to do, given her profession. But Jackson knew better. He knew Lisa better than she knew herself. He suddenly frowned as the feeling of the Frankenstein pen jamming into his throat fluttered through is mind's eye.

Jackson narrowed his eyes angrily as he felt the scar on his neck burn. Lisa caused him a permanent wound, and he was more than looking forward to returning the favor. He wiggled 2 of his fingers in front of her eyes playfully and slowly began to move them now Lisa's exposed neck.

"Your skin is beautiful." He breathed mindlessly, lost in thought as he slowly caressed her pale collarbone.

Lisa blew helplessly at his hand as his fingers continued to travel down her chest. He peeled back her white blouse slightly to expose the scar she tried so desperately to hide from the world.

He allowed his fingers to gently dance across the lumpy, deformed skin. Like Lisa, the scar had healed, but the skin was forever changed by the experience. Just like Jackson and his scar. Jackson's neck had healed, but his experience with Lisa forever changed him. He both loved and hated her for it.

Lisa swallowed hard and tried to fight the tears that brimmed at her eyes. "What do you want, Jack?" She hissed between breaths.

Jackson's fingers stopped their dance and settled on the center of Lisa's scar. "I thought that would be obvious by now." He traced her scar lightly. "I want you, Lisa."

"Bull-" Lisa inhaled sharply as Jackson dug his nail into the lumpy line of flesh.

"Lucky for me, my company wants you as well." Jackson continued speaking normally, seemingly un-effected by Lisa's gasps of pain and discomfort. He chuckled slightly as he studied her scar intently. The shape of the cut intrigued and infuriated him. "I have the pleasure of working with you exclusively."

He removed his finger suddenly and used his thumb to gingerly wipe away a small droplet of blood. Lisa exhaled deeply in relief and stared at the ceiling. This couldn't be happening.

"I always keep my word, Lisa. I said I would steal you."

Lisa closed her eyes tightly as his words washed over her. They were the same words he uttered in her dreams. Only now, amidst the stinging pain in her chest, Lisa knew she was in no dream. This was real. His scent, his voice, the pain, it was all too real. She fought to ground herself among the anxiety that threatened to overtake her.

"You belong to me now."

Lisa could feel his hot breath on her face as she struggled fiercely against the restraints that bound her to the bed. Jackson moved backward slightly and laughed as he eyed her up and down.

"I must say, I like you in leather, Leese. What do you think of wearing it more often?"

"Go to hell!" Lisa hissed.

Jackson smirked. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

Lisa gasped in pain as he placed a palm against her sternum and firmly pressed her body down into the bed, immobilizing her struggles.

"What do you want from me?" Lisa demanded, trying to steady her breaths.

Jackson smirked as he watched her chest rise and fall quickly. He could tell she was anxious, although she was doing her best to mask it behind a façade of bravery. Lisa did not like to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but Jackson knew better. He could read her.

"Eventually, I want your undying love, affection, and obedience."

Jackson watched her eyes go wide. He chuckled and patted her lightly on the shoulder to pacify her. "I know, my demands sound overwhelming. But I'll train you. Don't worry Leese. I always ensure my property works effectively."

"Don't call me your property." Lisa's voice was quiet, but strong.

Jackson cocked an eyebrow and bore his cold, cerulean eyes into hers. "It's what you are."

"It's what I'll never be." Lisa whispered.

Jackson stared at her for several moments, intrigued. Her defiance excited him, and he knew better than to merely silence it with brute force. What would be the fun in that? Instead, he allowed his mouth to crinkle into an unexpected smile that unnerved and surprised Lisa.

"Most people have that attitude at first." Jackson relented, watching with fascination as Lisa studied him intently. "But they always come around. I make sure of that."

"You may as well kill me first." Lisa spoke in a low, serious voice through gritted teeth as she fought back tears. "I'll never be yours."

Jackson laughed. "Aren't we being a little melodramatic, Leese? I don't want you dead, nor does my company."

"And my family?" Lisa's voice wobbled.

Jackson shrugged. "They're fine. I don't like to play the same game twice."

"So this is personal then?" Lisa stared at the ceiling and braced herself for the answer.

Jackson stared at her thoughtfully for several moments before finally answering. He ran a hand through his hair uncomfortably as the truth hit him. Jackson had never stopped to ask himself that question.

"Yes." He was relieved for a distraction when she spoke again.

"What makes you think I'll let you control me?" Her voice was defiant as she stared coldly into his eyes.

Jackson allowed the corners of his lips to creep into a small smile. "You don't have a choice, Leese."

"I always have a choice!" Lisa hissed back at him.

Jackson shook his head and tried to avoid looking at the pain in her eyes. She was so desperate to assert her control over every situation. Jackson supposed it was a side effect of her parking lot experience. He almost felt bad for her as he tapped his fingers against her scar and spoke softly. "You and I both know that isn't true."

Lisa wanted to cry as she felt his fingers probe her scar again. She hated how she wore the memory right on her chest, for everyone, including him to see. She hated that he knew what it represented. He was the first man to see it and know immediately what it represented. Most other men she let close enough to see it believed her when she told them the scar resulted from a "fishing accident".

Not Jackson. He could see through. Lisa hated that he could see through her.

She wanted to wake up from this nightmare, but she knew she could not. She fought a wild mental battle to keep her eyes dry. Lisa would not let Jackson see her cry.

Jackson could tell Lisa was keeping her emotions hidden from him. Part of him felt infuriated at her defiance, while the other part felt excitement at the prospect of untangling her psyche and taming her.

"In any case, I'm glad you're finally awake. We can finally move upstairs, and out of this dungeon."

Lisa felt her blood run cold. "What happens upstairs?"

Jackson chuckled. "Stop worrying Leese, it's just your new living accommodations." He patted her on the chest affectionately. "It's time to show you our room."


	7. Chapter 7: Flashbacks

**AN: Trudes193: Thank you so much for your review! I really appreciate the specific feedback! Logan is a very fun character to write and she will show up more over the next several chapters. I will leave you with this little tidbit, she and Lisa may eventually find they share something in common, so stay tuned :) **

**To everyone else who took the time to leave some feedback, thank you! Please take a second to let me know what you guys think of this chapter. Reviews help inspire new ideas :) **

**Enjoy:**

**Chapter 7: Flashbacks**

Jackson dug his knee roughly into Lisa's lower back to pin her against the hospital bed as she struggled against his grip. Jackson had managed to secure one ring to Lisa's wrist, but Lisa was putting up an admirable fight against his efforts to bind both wrists. He enjoyed feeling her struggle beneath him. It was a futile battle. Jackson knew somewhere deep down, Lisa had to know that.

_Yet she keeps trying. _

Jackson felt an odd sensation of pride as he snatched up her second wrist. Sometimes, he loved the way she fought him, with her strange, elusive spirit just begging him to break her.

Lisa could be so enigmatic.

It excited Jackson to watch her feign exhaustion and resume her struggles at certain moments, when she believed she was catching him off guard. Lisa was certainly a departure from the individuals his company generally had him follow.

Most were middle management types, future "actresses" and the occasional law student. They bent to Jackson's will immediately. Well, almost immediately. It usually took Jackson half an hour to calm them down from their hysterical crying spells, and get them to do the job.

Lisa on the other hand, fought her tears.

Although he refused to admit it, Jackson sometimes had trouble reading her.

Sometimes, it infuriated him. However, her hidden emotions also intrigued him.

Jackson knew Lisa hid so much behind that compliant smile she wore in public. He hated that she wore that people-pleasing mask, especially around _him._ Did she not know that he could see through it? Surely Lisa was not that dense. Jackson assumed then, that she did it to infuriate him.

It was working.

He squeezed the second steel ring tightly around her wrist and smiled at his handiwork as Lisa gasped in pain.

"Ahhhh…" She whimpered.

The steel was cold against Lisa's skin, and the warmth of Jackson's calloused fingers lingering on her inner wrist almost felt soothing.

"I have some male, fact-based logic for you Leese."

Jackson wondered if she would listen this time. He was not sure which of her reactions he preferred. If she obeyed them, he supposed he would feel relief. However, if she did not, then Jackson would have to improvise to _make_ her obey him.

He smiled slightly. It was a difficult choice to make.

Jackson decided to test her. "This will be much less painful for you, if you accept that this is beyond your control, and stop fighting. Now, walk." Jackson ordered sternly, pushing her lightly forward.

Lisa stumbled toward the door and paused. She glanced over her shoulder defiantly toward Jackson, who sighed.

"Walk, Leese. Or I will make you walk."

Lisa studied Jackson for several moments. Part of her knew it was not worth fighting him now. Jackson had told her to pick her battles. Well, Lisa was taking his advice. If she played nice now, perhaps Jackson would show her a way out of this place. She had to find a way to play his game, at least for now.

Slowly, Lisa turned around and took a few steps forward. Jackson nodded approvingly as he walked up behind her.

"Put this on." Jackson commanded, peeling off his navy blue blazer. He draped it over Lisa's shoulders.

"I'm not cold."

"I don't care." Jackson replied coldly. "We're riding a corporate elevator. We can't have our accountants and investors seeing a handcuffed young female running around, now can we?"

Lisa closed her eyes as Jackson positioned his blazer so that it hid Lisa's bound arms. She could smell him all over her. To the passerby, she simply looked like a cold young woman, wearing her boyfriend's jacket.

"Peachy." Jackson complimented his handiwork and draped his arm around Lisa.

Lisa grimaced as Jackson's grip tightened. Images of the Fresh Air bathroom tumbled through her mind as the light scent of his cologne engulfed her.

"You want to know what I think, Lisa?" Jackson asked pleasantly, as he rubbed his forearm lightly against her shoulder.

Lisa trembled as her mind began to tug her toward the past.

"_You want to know what I think?" _

_Lisa inhaled sharply. _

_Jackson's finger lingered on her chest as he glared at her in disgust. Lisa could not tell if he was disgusted with her, or the act itself. Either way, she knew he was upset. She felt her cheeks burn with shame as he looked from her eyes to the scar. _

_Suddenly, his arms shot forward and clamped around her shoulders. Jackson swung her around the lavatory and smashed her against the opposite wall. There was a loud bang as Lisa's back collided with the hard plastic of the lavatory._

_Lisa felt the wind get knocked out of her and her knees go weak. Jackson would not let her fall however. _

_Instead, he wrapped his hands around her throat and pushed her to her feet. Lisa grunted in pain and clawed violently at his hands as she felt his fingers crush into her throat. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and the corners of his lips were curled in an angry frown. _

_Lisa tried desperately to breathe, puffing short breaths through her nostrils. In the midst of all of the pain, she could feel Jackson's scent tickle her nose. It was such a strange and comforting smell, Lisa could barely believe it was being worn by this bastard. _

"_I think you're not such an honest person." _

_Jackson leaned in close so that their noses were almost touching. His voice, a low hiss, sliced through Lisa as she stared fearfully into his eyes. _

_He could see through her. He could see through her lies. _

_Lisa felt panic rush over her as she pried her fingers against his. She couldn't let him see her! He had no right to see her! Lisa's secrets belonged to her alone!_

"_I can't breathe….I can't breathe!" _

_Lisa gasped weakly. Her fingers were still grasping pathetically at his wrists. Jackson snarled in disgust._

"What? No comment?"

Lisa blinked. Jackson was staring at her, half-inquisitive, half-annoyed.

"You zoned out there for a minute, Leese. Are you still having flashbacks?" Jackson's voice held a strange hint of concern that surprised even him.

Lisa felt startled by the change in his tone and shrugged uncomfortably. Her psychological issues were not anyone's concern, least of all _Jackson's._

She swallowed hard and glanced at the floor.

"No."

Jackson felt anger begin to boil within him. Lisa was speaking in that familiar hushed whisper. He remembered it from the Fresh Air bathroom, as he probed the long scar across her chest.

"_Someone do that to you?" He asked, his voice becoming strangely sincere as his eyes fell upon the scar on her chest._

"_No…" She whispered softly, averting her eyes from his gaze._

Lisa had lied to him in the bathroom, and here she was lying to him now.

Lisa knew he despised liars!

Instinctively, Jackson's hands shot forward and seized Lisa's throat. Lisa needed to understand that he would not tolerate such behavior from _her,_ of all people!

"Still telling lies, huh Leese? I guess some things never change."

Lisa gave a weak cry of pain as he tightened his grip on her throat and shoved her against the cold wall.

Jackson could feel her body vibrate as her back slammed against the hard concrete.

"Do you still run out of breath after 15 seconds of this Lisa?" Jackson mocked as he squeezed his fingers against her porcelain neck.

She felt so soft against his skin. Jackson wondered if she would bruise from this encounter. He hated to damage her beautiful body, but Lisa made his physical force necessary. Jackson supposed he could learn to love whatever black and blue portions of her he might cause. Maybe to Lisa, they would serve as a useful reminder of who owned her.

Jackson smiled wickedly and leaned in toward Lisa's face, relishing her tremors of fear and discomfort. He could feel the heat and panic fall from her body in thick waves and waft toward him. It made his skin tingle.

Jackson loved to feel her strange energy course through him. It was an odd sense of electricity that he had rarely ever felt.

Perhaps once, he had felt a similar feeling when he had first taught Logan. However, it paled in comparison to the intensity with which Lisa's energy stung him.

"Would it be risky to try for 20 seconds this time Lisa? Double your record?"

Jackson frowned as Lisa closed her eyes tightly. He hated when she tried to hide herself from him. She had to learn that such actions were futile now!

"I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" Lisa gasped as her lungs began to burn violently in futile effort.

Jackson eyed her in mild concern. His fingers were rigid and he hesitated to release his grips on her. Her face was tightened in pain and desperation and he felt a pang of guilt.

Jackson supposed there was no point in causing her to pass out. He had been waiting long enough for her to awaken.

With a sigh, Jackson lifted his fingers and watched as Lisa collapsed. He caught her body in his strong arms and pulled her toward his chest.

Her body was shivering as she gulped in heavy breaths of oxygen and shuddered against him. Jackson loved the feeling of holding her close to him at last. Her body was so soft, yet strong, against his.

Jackson laughed quietly and leaned in to hiss in her ear.

"That's called exposure therapy, Leese. It's supposed to help you face your fears. I read about your nightmares, with my hands on your neck….the flight….the parking lot…."

"Stop…" Lisa whispered weakly, too tired to push his hands away.

Jackson ran a hand through her dark, curly hair and relished the tingling sensation on his fingertips. Her energy was still so strong.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up as her scent wafted over him. The smell of her perfume drifted around him like a heavy cloud. Honey Hibiscus Cherry Blossom Fusion, Jackson recognized the scent from her apartment. It was the same perfume she had worn aboard that fateful flight.

Jackson kissed her head softly, and lightly, and relished the sensation of her soft hair against his face. It was odd. As she trembled beneath his lips, Jackson wondered which he was enjoying more: kissing her or causing her discomfort.

Jackson found himself uncomfortably uncertain of his emotions and suddenly pulled away. He supposed he could be tender with her, eventually. For now however, Lisa needed to be trained. He needed to assert his dominance over her.

He glanced around the floor and bent to pick up his blazer. Lisa had shaken it off of her shoulders during the tussle. Jackson frowned as he brushed some dirt away from the fabric. He hated getting his things dirty.

Jackson opened up the jacket and draped it over Lisa's shoulders, feeling her shiver as he brushed her hair out from behind her neck to allow the blazer to fit properly.

"You always get goose bumps after a flashback." Jackson commented nonchalantly in her ear as his fingers played on her neck. He slowly wrapped his arms around her delicate body and guided her forward.

"Now, let's walk Leese."

**To be continued. **


End file.
